


poly doctor rights

by notjodieyet



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Thoschei, apparently there are very few Softe poly doctor fics that arent smut and i wanted to change that, canon? not in MY fics, change my mind, poly doctor rights, the master and rose are friends, this is like the second thoschei fic i've written in which one of the two of them isn't there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22531453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet
Summary: rose makes breakfast and there is somebody sitting on the dining room table.except that somebody is the master.(if anyone wants context he showed up at like, midnight last night and the doctor very tiredly went "we'll deal with this tomorrow") (yes he spent all night sitting on the table Yearning)
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm)/Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler, The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor/The Master/Rose Tyler
Comments: 23
Kudos: 76





	poly doctor rights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allenabeille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allenabeille/gifts).



Rose came downstairs early, while the Doctor was still asleep, careful not to wake Martha and Donna while she padded through the hallway.

There was somebody sitting cross-legged on the table.

She made oatmeal in the dim light of the kitchen, humming to herself, sprinkling cinnamon over it and deciding not to cook apples. Rose sat down at the dinner table, took a bite, and immediately fell off her chair.

_There was somebody sitting cross-legged on the table._

“Who _are_ you?”

The figure looked at her as if noticing her for the first time and sighed, heavily. “He’s collecting them like trading cards, isn’t he?”

“What?” Rose righted herself and picked her spoon off the floor. Probably not usable anymore. 

“Humans. They’re accumulating like _rats_. Or cockroaches. Infestation.”

“What?” She had half a mind to yell at him for ruining her perfectly good spoon. “What are you saying?”

“You’re right, I’m mixing my metaphors.” He considered this for a moment. “I’m not sorry.” He uncrossed his legs and leapt, with a debatable amount of grace, off the dining table. “You’re his new…” He sneered, his face slightly more visible now. “Lover.”

“Do you mean girlfriend? Because yes.”

He shivered at this, as if it was an idea that personally offended him. “Why is it so dark in here?” 

“How did you get in here?”

He didn’t answer, but strode over to the lightswitch and flicked it on, flooding the dining room with painfully bright light. “Tell me how.”

“What?”

“How’d you do it? Because I’ve been trying for…” The stranger threw up his arms. “Forever.”

“Do what? Why are you here?”

“ _Your_ Doctor —” he snipped, venomously. “— let me stay the night. And _apparently_ his bed was occupied?” The stranger raised his eyebrows, as if he had some sort of right to the Doctor’s bed that Rose had, apparently, violated.

“Has anybody ever told you that it’s impossible to have a coherent conversation with you?”

“Yes. What is it like?”

“What is _what_ like? Having a conversation with you? A bit like ripping all my hair out, one strand at a time.”

“No.”

When it was quite evident he wasn’t going to continue, Rose walked to the kitchen and got herself a new spoon. She returned to the stranger sitting on the back of a chair, going through postcards the Doctor had left on the counter. “Jackie. Who’s Jackie?”

“My mum.”

“None of these are for me.” He tossed the postcard onto the floor. “His handwriting has gotten worse.” 

“Who _are you_?”

He squinted at one. “Hearts! He drew hearts over your name. That’s so _cheesy_. Why is he always so cheesy?”

“Aww, that’s sweet of him.”

“Shut up. Shut up.”

“Who are you?”

The stranger tossed all the postcards to the floor, and they fluttered around like paper butterflies. “An old friend of the Doctor’s. An old enemy.”

“Why are you here?”

“I came to murder your boyfriend,” said the stranger, lightly, like that was a normal sentence a normal person would say.

“Okay.”

“Tell me what it’s like.”

“Tell you what _what’s_ like? Murdering him?”

The stranger looked annoyed. “No. Having him say it to you. All the time.”

“Say what?”

He bit his lips, and then sucked on his teeth, and then adjusted himself in the chair so he was sort of spread out over the table, and then tapped his fingers on the tabletop, and finally, as if it were the most painful thing in the world, blurted out, “ _I love you_.” 

Rose laughed. “What is it like to have the Doctor say I love you?”

“Yeah. He’s never said it to me.”

“Oh, honey,” said Rose, because the stranger seems like the type of person someone should be saying _oh, honey_ to a lot but nobody had in a long time, and she lifted herself onto the table. “What’s your name?”

“The Master.”

“The… okay, not gonna question that one.”

“I love him.”

Rose pet his hair, which was weird but he also had surprisingly soft hair. “It’s like…” She shook her head, wonderingly. “Have you ever held his hand? And it’s like suddenly you know what the planets must be like, to want to circle the sun, because he’s your sun now and everything else is dark and doesn’t matter?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s like that. But a million times better.”

“Huh,” the Master said, very softly. 

“Oh, honey,” she said again, and hopped off the table. “Get up, and I’ll make you some breakfast.” 

She made him some breakfast, and sat across from the table from him. Throughout the next half hour, she learned that he was evil, had murdered lots of people, and was desperate for the Doctor’s attention, which sort of explained the first two. 

“Gallifrey was different back then. You know? It changed a lot. It’s gone now. I think that’s for the better.”

“Yeah?”

“It kind of sucked.”

“Oh, fair.”

The Master took another bite of oatmeal. “Tell me about this Donna woman. She seems interesting.”

“She’s a character, all right.”

“You love her?”

“I thought you were a terrible person and couldn’t understand love?” laughed Rose. “But yeah, I love her. I think she thinks of herself as a mum of mine.”

“I thought Jackie was your mum?”

“She is! But one day, Donna went, ‘What kind of parent lets her daughter gallivant around in space,’ or whatever, and now she’s just always keeping an eye on me.”

“She doesn’t like Jackie, then.”

Rose laughed, again. “Not at first. But they get along, now. Donna’s sort of Jackie’s eyes. If my _real_ mum can’t come along, then Donna sure as hell has to.”

“And Martha?”

“Martha’s my best friend. I love her, too.”

“You love a lot of people.”

“The Doctor always says humans love so fiercely to make up for the fact that we’ve only got one heart.”

The Master idly tapped his left breast, and then his right. “Humans are weird.”

“I don’t think humans are the only ones who can love more than one person. I think he can love more than one person, too.”

“The Doctor?”

“Totally.”


End file.
